


Hide Your Face

by celeste9



Series: A Series of Encounters [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Primeval
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Agent Simmons, I have a proposition for you." (AoS spoilers through 2x5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> This is another installment of my "Simmons is Lester's daughter" series and my attempt to bring it back in line with canon. Thanks to fredbassett for doing the beta. For 'evening' on my Primeval bingo card. (What, some of it is set during the evening!) Lester/Coulson implied.

Jemma wasn’t certain if she was more surprised at the presence of someone at the door while her dad was out or at the fact that it turned out to be Coulson.

“My dad isn’t here,” she said to him.

“I’m not here to see your dad.”

“Oh.” It took a few seconds for the obvious to sink in. “Oh! You’re here to see me! Why are you here to see me?” Before Coulson could answer, Jemma said, “I’m not coming back to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Jemma bit her lip. Well, that hurt.

“I didn’t mean-- Simmons, can I come inside or are you going to make me stand in the hall?”

“No! I mean, yes, come in.” Jemma stood aside so Coulson could walk through the door. She could feel her dad’s disapproving glare from across London. He would be appalled by her lack of manners. “Would you like something to drink? Or to eat? I’ve just had dinner, I could heat something for you.” There, that should appease his sensibilities at least a little.

“No, thank you.” Coulson made his own way to the living room and sat down, as comfortable as if it were his own flat. “How have you been?”

Jemma sat down herself, somewhat more awkwardly. “Um… Is this a social visit? Because, you know, that’s quite nice of you, but also odd.”

“All right then, we’ll skip the small talk. Agent Simmons, I have a proposition for you.”

“What?” That sounded an awful lot like rejoining S.H.I.E.L.D., which Coulson had only just said he wasn’t there to ask her to do.

“I want you to go undercover.”

Even before asking precisely what sort of undercover position Coulson was talking about, Jemma’s immediate thought was, “But Fitz-- I haven’t helped him yet.”

Though Coulson’s face was kind, his words were firm. “You know better than anyone that what happened to Fitz is... Simmons, you can’t fix what can’t be fixed.”

“Don’t bloody tell me what I can’t do!” Jemma glared across the room at Coulson, holding onto her anger because if she didn’t, she was going to freak out about having shouted and sworn at her boss. Former boss. Surrogate father figure. The man who was shagging her actual father. Jemma cringed.

“He can get better,” she said in a more level, subdued tone. “He will get better. He... You came back from the _dead,_ Coulson. You’re living proof that nothing is impossible.”

“Maybe some things should be.”

Though Coulson was as good as anyone Jemma knew at hiding what he was feeling ( _anyone except Ward, don’t think about Ward_ ), there was something small and frightened that lurked behind his eyes. Jemma wondered if he was actually okay, or if he ever would be.

“It isn’t like that,” Jemma said, because it wasn’t. Fitz wasn’t dead. He just wasn’t himself.

“This isn’t your fault, you know. Fitz isn’t your responsibility.”

“No, but he’s my friend. Isn’t that what you do for friends? Help them?”

Jemma knew that Coulson wanted to argue with her, but he held himself in check. Instead he said, “Can I at least tell you about why I’m here?”

Settling more firmly in her seat, Jemma crossed her knees and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Infiltrate Hydra.”

Jemma stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Coulson leaned forward a little. “We desperately need intel. We need to know what they’re doing, what they want. Hydra has been ten steps ahead of us all this time, and if we’re going to fight them, we need to know what we’re up against.”

“And you think I’m the person who can find that out? You really are desperate.”

“You’re a scientist, Agent Simmons. You’re recently out of a job, you’re brilliant... Hydra would jump at a chance to have you. It’s the perfect cover.”

“For a field agent, perhaps. I’ve never been a field agent.”

Coulson was smiling faintly. “I didn’t exactly keep you and Fitz locked up on the bus.”

“No, but...”

“How is your mission to help Fitz going, exactly? At the ARC?”

Jemma drew her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced away.

“If you agree to this, you’ll be in Hydra. They have facilities, resources... Perhaps you’ll find something to help you there.”

“They’ll have me doing what they want me to be doing. I won’t be able to conduct my own research.”

“At first. But when they trust you...” Coulson shrugged. “Who knows?”

Jemma still felt like Coulson was only humoring her, but nevertheless she clung to the scraps he was offering. “Fine, but I think you’re forgetting one key piece of information. I am a _terrible_ liar.”

“Yes, but you excel at preparation.” Coulson’s eyes had a twinkle in them. Jemma could sort of see what Daddy must see in him. “Jemma, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I thought you couldn’t. You know that, don’t you?”

Skye had said that Coulson was different, that being the director had changed him. Jemma remembered the stories she had heard about him back at S.H.I.E.L.D., about how he had been the perfect company man, about how he always put S.H.I.E.L.D. first. Half the junior agents had been terrified of him, and the other half likely were only pretending they weren’t.

But nothing had ever matched up. No one knew which of the stories were true and which were rumor, and the man who had asked Jemma to be a part of his team hadn’t been anything like the man everyone had talked about. All Jemma knew was that Coulson had fought with everything in him to stop Skye from dying, even when it meant going against S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe he was different now, but Jemma still wanted to believe that he cared about them.

She realized she was going to say yes, and that she always had been. Coulson probably knew that, too.

“Does my dad know you’re asking me to do this?” It hit her, then, and Jemma didn’t need to hear the answer. “You’re leaving before he gets back.”

“The fewer people who know about this, the safer you’ll be.”

“I won’t lie to him.”

“I’m not asking you to. You’ll just need to be... selective with the truth.”

Jemma had been selective with the truth ever since she had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., but that didn’t make her feel any better about it. “Is that what you do?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“That isn’t an answer,” Jemma said, but she didn’t push any further. She stayed quiet for a few moments, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. Then she said, “It will help you, if I do this? It will help the team?”

Coulson nodded. “It will.”

Jemma made herself smile. “Then I suppose I’m applying for a position at Hydra.”

-

It was late by the time Daddy came home. He was being quiet, as if he thought she might be asleep, but Jemma went into the kitchen to find him putting the kettle on.

“Long night?” she said.

His eyes looked tired but he smiled at her anyway. “The less said about it, the better. I considered going for the brandy but decided to be virtuous.”

“Well, I’m very proud of you, then,” Jemma said, leaning against the counter. She wondered if she should wait to tell him, wait for a better moment. She wasn’t sure it would ever seem like the right time, though.

“Something the matter?”

Of course Daddy would know she was hiding something. She had to say it. She was just going to say it. “I’m leaving.”

Daddy blinked at her. “Now?”

“No, I mean... I’ve got a job offer.” Or she would, anyway. As long as they didn’t kill her first.

“That’s wonderful news!” Daddy squeezed her shoulder. “I didn’t even know you were looking.”

“It was...sudden. I hope you don’t mind. I should have told you, I--”

Daddy interrupted her. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Jemma. You’re a grown woman. I understand that you don’t want to be stuck living with your father.”

Only that wasn’t it, at all. Sometimes a childish part of her wished she could live here forever, hiding from the world. Here where it was safe, and she was loved. But it was better if Daddy thought she was getting anxious, it would make him ask fewer questions.

Jemma hated this.

“I’m glad you don’t mind,” she said.

“Of course I don’t mind. You know all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. As much as I love having you here, I want you to be where it’s best for you.”

Jemma reached out to hug him, blinking away the sensation of tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Jemma,” Daddy said, and held her until she made herself pull away. “Now. What sort of job offer are you talking about? I do hope it involves less falling out of planes and being shot at than your previous employment.”

“It’s a research position,” Jemma said, and left out the rest.

She feared that Hydra would prove far more dangerous than S.H.I.E.L.D. ever had, and prayed her dad never had cause to find that out.

She wondered what Coulson would tell Daddy if she died.

But that was morbid and unproductive, so instead Jemma asked, “Have you got enough water heated for me?”

-

“Are you absolutely certain you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?”

Jemma made herself smile at him and hoped she looked reassuring. “No, Daddy, for the hundredth time, you don’t have to do that.”

“If you’re certain,” Daddy said, fidgeting with his cuffs.

“I’m certain.”

The truth was, Jemma wanted to take a taxi because it meant she could just escape out the door. She was… she was afraid, and she thought that if Daddy drove her she might break down. She might cry or do something ridiculous and she couldn’t, she needed to leave, she needed to get on that plane and go for an interview with Hydra so she could be a double agent for Coulson.

This wouldn’t be the first time Jemma had been afraid and hadn’t told her dad. Jemma had been afraid when Mum died, afraid of the prospect of a world without her, afraid that she couldn’t cope, but she hadn’t told Daddy because she hadn’t wanted him to think that he wasn’t enough. Jemma had been afraid when she went away to school, afraid of being so far from home and so much younger than everyone else, but she hadn’t told Daddy because she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind about letting her go, she hadn’t wanted him to think she was still just a foolish little girl. Jemma had been afraid when she went to the Academy, afraid that she was making a mistake by going when she still barely even knew what S.H.I.E.L.D. was, afraid of no longer being the smartest person in the room when everyone else was as brilliant as she was (well, perhaps she had always tied with Fitz, but his focus was in a different area than hers so he didn’t count), but she hadn’t told Daddy that, either.

This was different, though. This wasn’t a choice. She _couldn’t_ tell Daddy, and somehow that made it worse, because it felt dishonest.

It was better to leave as cleanly as possible, with no chance for hysterics.

She could do this. She could be brave.

“I’m going to wait downstairs,” she said.

A flicker of dismay passed over Daddy’s face but then he nodded. “Whatever you want. Do I… Can you at least give your poor old dad a hug before you walk out on him?”

Jemma dug her fingernails into her palm to distract herself. She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. “Of course, Daddy,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him, melting into his embrace like she was a little girl again. “I’ll… I’ll see you soon,” she lied, because she didn’t know when she could see him.

“I’d wish you good luck, but I know you don’t need it.”

When Jemma made it outside, she only had to wipe her eyes a little.

-

The day before her interview with Hydra, Jemma got a haircut.

It was a terrible thing to do the day before an interview. What if it turned out awful? Then it would be too late to fix and that would be the first impression you would make, the girl with the awful haircut. Jemma knew this. She always prepared properly for interviews.

She did it anyway.

She thought... There was something about changing your hair that made you feel like a new person. It could make you look like a different person, but it was more than that. There was something about it that felt like a departure from who you were and a first step to who you might become.

If she changed her hair, perhaps Hydra would believe that she wasn’t Dr Jemma Simmons, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Perhaps they would believe the lies she was telling them. Perhaps they would believe she was the person she wanted them to think she was.

Perhaps if she changed her hair, Jemma would believe it, too.

-

Jemma had never lived on her own before. First there had been her parents, of course. Then she’d gone through a series of roommates, at boarding school, at university, at the Academy. At S.H.I.E.L.D., she had shared a flat with Fitz, and then there had been the bus, and then back to her dad again.

Now she was alone.

She hated it. She hated coming home to an empty flat. She hated how quiet it was. Sometimes she turned on music too loud just to fill the silence. It was hard to spend all day at Hydra with people she didn’t want to get close to only to come home to yet more loneliness. She missed Daddy. She missed Skye, and Coulson, and even May.

Most of all she missed Fitz.

Hydra kept her busy. Jemma knew now that Coulson had most likely been lying to her when he had convinced her she could use Hydra’s resources to continue her research into helping Fitz. Maybe she had always known he was lying to her, and had only let herself believe what he was telling her.

When she was at home in her empty flat, she thought a lot about Fitz. She thought about what he had told her, in the box under the ocean. She thought about his smile and his laugh and about how he always knew the right thing to say even when he was just babbling nonsense. She missed how easy things used to be and then she felt guilty for even thinking it.

Jemma was afraid that she wasn’t actually a good friend. She was afraid that she had wanted to help Fitz for all the wrong reasons, and that what she had been doing had really only been hurting him. He must think that she had abandoned him, that she didn’t care, when that was as far from what she actually felt as was possible.

“I hate this,” Jemma said out loud, because there was no one to hear her anyway.

-

Jemma hadn’t spoken to her father in a month.

She could have. Coulson had never said she couldn’t. In fact, the last time she’d seen him, after bemoaning the state of her refrigerator he had said, “Your dad’s concerned about you.”

Jemma’s glass nearly slipped out of her hand. She set it down carefully on the counter. “Is he?”

“He thinks you must be working too hard. You should talk to him.”

“I have.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not for a while, but... I will. I’ve just... I’ve been busy. Trying not to die.”

If Jemma had thought that remark might make Coulson look guilty, she was mistaken. He looked merely as unflappable as ever. “Well, the longer you leave it, the more he whines about it to me, and I haven’t got time to be the go-between in your family drama.”

Jemma bit back her smile. “It’s kind of adorable that he complains about me to you, and yes, I realize how odd it is for me to say that.”

“I resent that accusation,” Coulson said lightly. “Show some compassion. Talk to him.”

But Jemma hadn’t talked to him. Every time she considered it she remembered what their last conversation had felt like, unable to tell him the truth, feeling like she was lying with everything she didn’t say.

She _wanted_ to talk to him. She wanted to tell him that every time she carried on a conversation with one of her colleagues, she was afraid she would slip up, that they would know. She wanted to tell him that she was genuinely afraid of dying and that it was getting harder and harder to trust in herself. She wanted to tell him that she hated the work she was doing, that she hated the person she was becoming simply by virtue of working at Hydra, of doing what they told her to do. She wanted to tell him that she was afraid of what they would do with the knowledge she gave them. She wanted to tell him that with every day that went by, she got more and more afraid of looking in the mirror and being a person she no longer recognized.

None of that was something she could say, though.

Finally Jemma sent Daddy an email. She wrote, _Sorry it’s been so long! Time just got away from me, you know how I get when I’m working on a project._

And she went on like that, filled the email up with bubbly nonsense she knew she could pass off because Daddy wouldn’t be able to see her face when he read it.

Just before she signed her name, she took a breath and tapped out, _I thought I could use this opportunity to help Fitz, but the longer I’m away from him the more I’ve realized that I wasn’t trying to help him. I was trying to help myself. I was trying to help myself deal with the guilt of being fine while he struggled, of knowing that whatever happened to him was because he was trying to save me._

_Fitz is still Fitz, even if he can’t remember things, and maybe it was selfish of me to try to fix him. He doesn’t need to be fixed. I think maybe I treated him differently, and surely he could see that. I think maybe I made it worse. I hope he knows that he’s still my best friend, and I don’t want him to be anyone but himself. I know what you would tell me, Daddy, that I should tell HIM that. But it’s always harder to say the things we need to to the people who need to hear them._

_Anyway, I think I just needed to get that out, because I’ve had a lot of time to think about it lately. I hope you’re well. I miss you._

_Love, Jemma_

Jemma hit send, and realized she was crying.

She hoped that this would be over soon, and that she could make things right with Fitz.

-

When Jemma found herself back on a S.H.I.E.L.D. plane, it hardly felt real. She had been certain far too many times that she was going to die. She wanted to kiss Bobbi Morse, and she was only half certain she meant that figuratively.

“You could have told me you had an extraction plan in place, you know,” Jemma said to Coulson. “Would have made me feel a lot better. I mean, _a lot._ ”

“Did you think I wouldn’t? Couldn’t have faced your dad if I’d managed to leave his daughter to Hydra’s tender mercies.”

Jemma felt a smile tug at her mouth. No, that wouldn’t be a conversation Coulson would get out of alive. “Have you seen him recently? My dad?”

“London may be a bit too far for a quick stopover,” Coulson said, a gentleness in his eyes even if his expression hadn’t changed, “but our wi-fi connection is excellent.”

-

Five minutes later, Jemma was sitting with her laptop on her knees. “Hello, Daddy,” she said.

When Daddy smiled at her, Jemma finally felt like everything was right again.

**_End_ **


End file.
